


La Mer

by Eavenne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, F/M, Femininity, Hearing Voices, Identity Issues, Little Mermaid Elements, Multiple Personalities, Suffering, Unrequited Love, changing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eavenne/pseuds/Eavenne
Summary: There were so many things that Switzerland couldn't say. The words trembled on her tongue, and yet –But perhaps someone would do it for her.(In which there's someone in Switzerland's head, and another her threatens to change everything).





	La Mer

When he moved in air, she swam underwater.

There was a distance between them; it surfaced in the gaps between their words, where everything important was left unsaid; it represented those missing years, when they’d locked their childhood memories away to gather dust in the recesses of their animosity.

When he was there, she was out of her element – lost, hesitant, uncertain, struggling to understand their past and their present and their future. Floating underwater, borne by the currents of an endless sea, she wondered why she’d been dragged from the mountains of her home, and couldn’t think of an answer.

Yet Austria looked at her, saw something valuable in her, and extended his hand to her once more – and though she believed it impossible, Switzerland wished they could be friends again.

And so, drawn to the sunlight in his eyes, she broke the surface of the water and placed her dripping hand in his.

—-

It was simpler than she’d expected. Silence swelled into conversation that settled into silence. It was a welcome quietness – an easy, comforting little bubble where speech became unnecessary as they were there for one another and that was enough.

There was no doubt in Switzerland’s mind that Austria had changed. He was older, wiser, more world-weary: and yet he was still that boy she’d known as a child, stubborn and frugal and obsessed with music. Some things would never change – his kindness was constant, and he never compared her to others or criticised who she was – and Switzerland was glad that he’d stayed the same through all those years.

She dreamed of his smile. It was a rarity now, a fleeting expression that flitted across Austria’s face when he played the piano or gazed at Hungary. Perhaps it came with his loss of youthful innocence, but Switzerland found herself watching his lips distractedly, waiting pointlessly for them to curve into a smile.

Once, when they reminisced about their childhood, she realised that it’d been centuries since Austria had last smiled at her.

Something tightened in her chest.

—-

She couldn’t get him out of her mind.

Years had flown past. Now there was no doubt that they were friends once more, and Austria didn’t hesitate to contact her and ask for her opinion on various mundane matters.

Sometimes he’d visit her, and Switzerland would sit quietly by as Austria listened to Liechtenstein play the violin and offered some pointers. Though she tried to focus on her sister, Switzerland’s attention wandered helplessly to the man beside her – with each little movement, he drowned out the violin and effortlessly pulled her eyes towards him.

When he left for home, her gaze would linger on his disappearing back.

And though there was little that Switzerland feared, her thoughts – that she didn’t want him to leave, that she wished he could stay just a little longer – scared her, and so she turned desperately from them and pretended they didn’t exist.

But that didn’t make them go away. Her feelings were chains binding her hands and feet – they weighed her down, dragged her from the water’s surface to the deep dark unknowns of a boundless sea, where she saw beautiful and terrible things alike: the casual brush of fabric and easy conversation, and the music of Hungary’s laugh and the way his eyes laughed with her.

It was tiring.

Yet Switzerland wouldn’t have it any other way.

—-

They’d been talking about the party.

It was a silly affair, though one that happened just once every twenty years, which was the only reason why anyone bothered to turn up for it. Every two decades, the same old story repeated itself – everyone showed up in their best clothes, drank themselves to oblivion, and staggered home with half their outfit destroyed and the other half missing. If there’d been a purpose for the celebrations, no one remembered what it was. But it was a tradition, and none of them really objected to its existence.

Switzerland didn’t quite like parties, and that one was no exception. Yet for Liechtenstein’s sake, she made a minimal effort – throwing on the same black-shirt-and-pants combination she wore for every such occasion, appearing at the event to either sit and stare at nothing, or walk off to enjoy the champagne alone.

It seemed that Austria had been asked to perform that year, and was wondering if he should ask Liechtenstein to duet with him. To her annoyance, Switzerland couldn’t help but fixate on the fact that the idea had been Hungary’s suggestion – “Everything’s about her,” her mind whispered, its voice rising angrily, “Hungary, Hungary, Hungary” – and suddenly time stopped.

Everything stood still in breathless anticipation of the next moment, but nothing seemed to move. Austria’s mouth hung open, his hand suspended in the air as he froze in the middle of talking and gesturing. Glancing around, Switzerland observed that the other patrons in the café had paused in a similar fashion.

Alarmed, she sprang from her seat – then a warm hand closed on her wrist and she turned. It was her.

“Listen,” the other Switzerland said, looking straight into her eyes. “I’m here to help you.”

And the scene around them shifted and rippled and distorted, and Switzerland’s eyes widened as she yanked her wrist away and stared at her lookalike – Then she woke up.

—-

There was something wrong with her.

Her thoughts were no longer hers. There was someone else in her head – someone who spoke in her voice, who understood how she felt and offered solutions to her problems in a low, poisonous murmur.

Though she tried to ignore it, the voice was persistent and wouldn’t seem to go away. It whispered into her ear; it rose up when she was alone, coiled itself around her mind and wouldn’t let her go. It urged her to reach out to Austria, to call him or tell him that she wanted to be with him – there was nothing else that it cared about, for the only thing it would speak about was him.

It felt like every single one of her unspeakable, hushed thoughts had found a place in this one disembodied voice that chorused insistently in her head.

And there was no escape.

—-

She dreamt of the sea.

The moon gazed down at the dark, peaceful waters, and let them borrow its image. A single rock jutted from the seabed, and it was there that Switzerland sat – her bare foot skimmed the water’s surface, ran across the moon’s reflection, and dipped underwater.

A comforting coolness crept up her leg, and Switzerland closed her eyes. “It’s nice, isn't it?”

Her eyes flew open.

Switzerland turned to face her enemy. Another rock had appeared close to hers; there sat her other self, a woman identical in face and body and voice, someone who saw all her thoughts and stared back in calm amusement.

“You know,” the other Switzerland said, looking down at the water, “Sometimes I wish we weren’t landlocked. Then I’d be able to see the sea whenever I wanted.”

Her long blonde hair glittered in the moonlight – Switzerland watched the other woman run a hand through it, and realised that the only physical difference between them lay there: while her own hair was secure in a braid, her other self wore it loose for the breeze to caress and the light to fall lovingly upon.

It was terribly impractical, and Switzerland narrowed her eyes.

“Who are you.” It wasn’t a question.

The other Switzerland angled her face towards her – the light cast her features in striking shadow, and her eyes paled to become two white moons shining from her face – she smiled, and the expression stretched her lips delicately.

“I’m here,” she said, her voice floating on the salty air, “because you’re taking too long and I’m getting impatient.”

Switzerland frowned. “What?” Her other self tossed her head and stretched out on the rock, lying on her side with her waist twisted, one leg over the other, and her arm resting on her hips. It wasn’t just an awkward, uncomfortable position – it was slightly provocative as well, and Switzerland couldn’t imagine herself ever reclining in such a manner.

“Well,” the other Switzerland said, “I like being judged for my looks as much as you do, but I think we should make an effort to be more attractive. For him.”

Every independent fibre in Switzerland’s being immediately rejected the notion. There was no way that she would change the way she appeared and stop acting like herself for anyone, not even –

“But you want him to look at you,” her other self murmured, and Switzerland felt her heart flutter in her chest at the thought even as her face burned in shame.  
Trying to shake off the unwelcome emotion, Switzerland glared at her lookalike. “He respects me – he likes me for who I am.”

But the other Switzerland only sighed and shook her head, her long hair swishing and catching the light with the motion. “But he likes Hungary more.”

Her other self’s voice rose melodiously from her throat and crept commandingly through the sea breeze and splashing waves; it rose and dipped with a sad beauty that Switzerland didn’t possess.

Yes, she realised, it was as if this version of her had more in common with Hungary than with herself.

“But I’m on your side,” corrected the other Switzerland, “and we’re in this together. It’s unfair, isn’t it? We were there before her. We were there, fighting by his side, rescuing him from harm since the day he was born.”

Suddenly she laughed and sat up, her eyes blazing with unrestrained passion. “It’s not right that Hungary gets to have him to herself. And that’s why I’m here.”

And even as the sea bended and the moon swelled and the stars fell from the sky as Switzerland’s dream burst at the seams, her other self leaned forward and watched her with firm intent.

“I’m here to change that.”

Then she woke up.

\---

The day of the party inched closer.

Normally Switzerland wouldn’t care in the slightest, but her lookalike seemed to have an interest in the event – it was the only thing she discussed that wasn’t related to Austria in any way.

Whenever she passed a clothing store, her other self would whisper, “Look at that!” or “Wouldn’t it be nice to take a look?” and Switzerland found it incredibly irritating.

The first time the celebration rolled around after she’d taken Liechtenstein in, the girl had innocently asked if Switzerland wanted to go shopping with her. Ever tactful, Liechtenstein hadn’t mentioned that her sister wore the same black gown to every single formal event, and probably could do with some variety.

Years passed. At the first indication that it was societally acceptable for women to wear clothes other than dresses, Switzerland had shoved her old wardrobe in a corner and hadn’t looked back since. There was simply no way that she would voluntarily wear something that arbitrarily limited her movements, and she had the greatest respect for women like Liechtenstein and Hungary who embraced such things. Unlike Hungary, Switzerland had known all along that she was a woman; unlike Hungary, she’d deliberately chosen to live a man’s life, and rejected notions that she should bother with any feminine concerns.

Even in her youth, Switzerland had known that she had better things to do than sit down and repair clothes, or clean houses or wash dishes or cook. Switzerland could do – and did – all those things, but there was so much more that she could offer with her body and her mind, and there was so much more to life than pursuing the womanly ideal.

Yet as she met more nations for the first time, many revealed that they all initially expected her to be some sweet shepherdess who frolicked in the fields and sang “the songs of her people”; someone graceful, ladylike and elegant; someone like her sister.

Sometimes she wondered if Liechtenstein would make a better Switzerland.

They were sisters; they shared the same blonde hair and blue-green eyes and slim figure, but they were very different; and as Switzerland continued to turn down Liechtenstein’s offers to shop with her, the girl seemed to understand, and stopped asking.

And like Austria, Liechtenstein looked for Hungary, and left with her instead.

But that year Liechtenstein looked up from the book she was reading and asked, “Would you like me to buy something for you? I saw some really nice shirts for a great price yesterday.”

  
It was a sweet offer – though she tried to hide it, Liechtenstein’s voice was bright with enthusiasm – and Switzerland supposed a good buy would save her money in the long run.

  
And she opened her mouth to respond, but her words were not her own.

  
“Sure,” someone said, and Switzerland felt her throat vibrate and her lips move but she was mute, and there was another person speaking through her.

  
It was the other Switzerland.

  
“Actually, it doesn’t have to be a shirt. You can get me anything you want,” said her other self.

  
Switzerland couldn’t believe her ears.

  
“Really?” Liechtenstein exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Even as she called out and yelled at the other woman to stop impersonating her, Switzerland couldn’t control her own movements; she was sinking in a dark sea, tired and helpless, and her limbs were heavy and numb.

Panic settled in, and she struggled desperately, tearing at the bonds of her own mind. “Stop it,” the other Switzerland said, her voice booming through the water and rising in agitation, “I’m trying to help us.”

And when Switzerland hesitated for a moment, her other self’s presence surged through the currents and pinned her against the seabed.

“Yes,” she said to Liechtenstein, “I was wondering if I should diversify a little, actually.”

Liechtenstein put her book down. “You…want me to buy you a dress?” she asked slowly, her eyebrows disappearing into her fringe.

“I don’t mind,” the other Switzerland replied coolly.

And her fate was sealed.

—-

She dreamt of the sea.

But Switzerland didn’t bother to admire the scenery – instead she sucked in a breath and turned to glare at her other self, preparing to yell, demand explanations and tell the other woman to leave her alone.

Her eyes widened.

For the other Switzerland was already wearing a dress.

It was a huge thing, wedding-cake-white and tumbling with ribbons and ruffles and delicate white lace; it pooled around her legs, enveloping the rock like some ridiculous, romantic jellyfish; it plunged down her back, displayed her naked shoulders and shoulder blades and neck, curled shyly around her arms and kissed the palms of her hands.

And when Switzerland saw the veil, she realised that it was a wedding dress.

“Yes,” the other woman whispered, “it’s a wedding dress. I hate it as much as you do.”

There was a single flower resting in her hair – Switzerland thought it was edelweiss. Her eyes narrowed.

She almost looked like Hungary.

“Maybe I do,” said the other Switzerland, “but as much as I dislike wearing this, it’s still better than watching Hungary walk down the aisle.”

Turning her head, she threw her shoulders back and gazed at Switzerland impassively; her eyes shone like pearls, her lips were painted coral-red, and her pale gold hair blew gently in the wind and rippled through the air.

For one of the few times in her long life, Switzerland looked at herself and thought she looked pretty.

Yet it was strange to think of herself as pretty, for that word belonged to rose-lipped, dainty girls like Liechtenstein – when she thought harder about it, Switzerland realised that she had no reason to use such a descriptor on her androgynous self.

“Don’t worry.” Her other self raised her left hand – it sparkled with a ring – and ran it over the narrow curve of her waist, as if she were feeling the warm flesh trapped within her tight bodice.  
Suddenly the dream waxed and waned, the air stretching and bending as the other Switzerland smiled fiercely at the woman before her.

“If you look like me, you can do anything,” she said, her voice a low murmur, “Even – ”

Then Switzerland woke up.

—-

There was no helping it.

Whenever Switzerland tried to talk Liechtenstein out of buying her a dress, the other Switzerland would intervene and hurl her into the sea once more; whenever Liechtenstein tried to ask

Switzerland if she really didn’t mind a dress, the other Switzerland would intervene and agree on Switzerland’s behalf.

And by the time Liechtenstein showed her several options and asked for her opinion, Switzerland supposed it was too late to back out of it.

The day of the party crept closer, and Switzerland watched as Liechtenstein and Austria practiced for their duet. It was an incredibly intimate affair – whenever they needed to come in together, they’d look at each other and take a breath, and Austria’s eyes would flicker to Liechtenstein as he waited for a cue – and Switzerland hated herself for wishing Austria and Liechtenstein didn’t have to play together.

“That’s why you need to impress him,” the other Switzerland whispered. “So he’ll look at you, and no one else.”

It had taken years, but now Switzerland had no choice but to admit that she wanted something from Austria. There were many things she yearned for, that she dreamed of – sentiments that she just couldn’t express, for her words caught in her throat and clung to her tongue and wouldn’t allow themselves to be said.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but she couldn’t speak.

—-

The dress arrived.

Liechtenstein clearly knew her well – to some extent, anyway. At the very least, it certainly wasn’t the monstrous cage of a wedding dress she’d seen in that dream.

When Switzerland tried it on, she stared at herself in the mirror and wondered if she was actually looking at herself.

“Do you like it?” Liechtenstein asked, stepping closer, clearly more excited than her sister.

While Switzerland was slightly disturbed by her exposed shoulders, the fact that the dress had pockets was a huge bonus – so she nodded in approval, and Liechtenstein’s face lit up.  
As her sister wondered aloud about how the outfit could be altered, the other Switzerland’s presence swirled dizzily in her mind.

“Now to wait for the big day.”

\---

She dreamt of the sea.

Switzerland gazed down at the water beneath her feet, and sighed. It was oddly peaceful, as if the whole world had been condensed into the moon, the rock and the sea; the breeze was her only companion, and it embraced her with its airy arms, whispering that everything would be alright.

In the real world, her body lay asleep in a Parisian hotel bed. The party would take place the next evening, and a large ballroom had been booked for the occasion.

If only she could stay in her dream forever.

“I don’t think you really want that,” said the other Switzerland, her voice rising and falling with the shifting waves.

And though she longed to say, “You don’t know anything about me”, Switzerland knew that was untrue, and decided not to voice the idea.

“I know everything about you,” replied her other self, and Switzerland reluctantly raised her head and turned to face her.

She stared.

For the other Switzerland had appeared as a mermaid.

Her scales were too bright – they shimmered in the moonlight, glinting silver with every small movement of her tail – and her long blonde hair waved in the wind, doing nothing to cover her naked torso.

“This is a dream,” she murmured, “and here your imagination is reality.”

It seemed that no other explanation would be forthcoming, and so Switzerland simply tried not to think too hard about it.

“Do you know what they say about mermaids?” The question hang in the salty sea air for a few moments; though she couldn’t stop herself from mulling over it, Switzerland did not offer an answer. And so her other self laughed – it was a clear sound, almost a musical note – and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“They call out to sailors with their beautiful songs. And when the boats come looking for them, they’re wrecked against the rocks.” Her voice glowed like the moon and bobbed in the air, a solitary light in the dusky dawn. “But you can save him. You can swim out to the sea and take his hand, and he won’t ever love anyone else.”

And in one quick movement, she slipped from the rock and plunged into the sea.

The crash of waves dissolved into ripples, and faded into silence. It was like the other Switzerland had simply disappeared – though Switzerland’s gaze darted through the landscape in shocked search, the woman was nowhere to be seen.

A hand closed around her ankle.

Suddenly she was underwater, looking straight into her nemesis’ eyes, helplessly sinking as the water rocked her body and crushed her heart. She tried to push her other self away, but her arms were too weak and her legs were anchors bearing her down – and the mermaid gripped her shoulders and drew closer, her eyes aflame with boiling intensity.

“And I’m going to help you,” she whispered, and pressed her mouth to Switzerland’s lips.

The world turned on its head, revolved, expanded and shrank; Switzerland was lost, tumbling through space, powerless to stop her other self from sucking at her soul; out of nowhere her chest burst in pain, her throat clawed itself to pieces and it hurt so much but she couldn’t scream –

Then she woke up, still in a dream.

—-

Her body was not her own.

Somehow she was still floating underwater, watching the world dimly through wavering distortions.

“Let me do this for you,” said the other Switzerland, her voice echoing through the waves; with her words, a freezing wave of coldness swept through the sea and sank resignedly into Switzerland’s limbs. As the water cooled, her eyelids grew heavy – distantly she wondered if falling asleep would make everything alright once she woke up.

Time slid silently forward. Neither conscious nor unconscious, Switzerland hovered between dreams and reality – fatigue had enveloped her body like the sea, and so she allowed her other self to move for her and speak for her, not really caring about anything anymore.

If not for the party, Switzerland might have stayed like that forever.

—-

France’s voice, and her unfamiliarity with the words he said, was the hook that yanked her from her half-slumber.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so comfortable in a dress,” he remarked, and all of a sudden Switzerland’s eyes shot open and a rush of warmth thawed her numb limbs, and the world re-oriented itself and she blinked at the golden lights swinging dizzily overhead in the gleaming ballroom.

She looked away. All around her, nations stood and chatted or pushed past one another in search of their friends – at first it was difficult to recognise the people in the crowd, but soon Switzerland identified Japan and Italy and England and Vietnam and Taiwan, and it became clear that she was at the party.

But then her head was dragged beneath the waves one more, and the other Switzerland turned to France and said, “Well, you are far too comfortable in dresses.”

He laughed then, throwing his head back with the action, and replied, “Maybe we should swap places, Suisse. You can wear my gorgeous tuxedo, and I can be the belle of the ball in that stunning aquamarine gown you have on. It’s a good idea, non?”

And once Switzerland successfully struggled to the surface of the water and regained control, she opened her mouth to reply, but her words stuck in her throat and she couldn’t speak – and in an attempt to recover she quickly shook her head and left.

Switzerland barely heard France’s last comment about the black lace on her dress, for every step sent a sharp pain slicing up her feet. It was like walking on knives, or being slowly impaled by needles – and though she was tearing her feet to ribbons, Switzerland swallowed the agony and continued on her way.

She wouldn’t let anyone know how desperately she was suffering.

“If you’d just let me do this for you,” said the other Switzerland, calling out from her underwater prison, “It wouldn’t hurt. You’re only in pain because you’re trying to fight me.”

Her voice floated through the water, casting its enchanting net in every direction. “And I’m trying to help you, so I don’t know why you’re resisting.”

“You’re making me pretend to be someone I’m not.” Switzerland’s fingers tightened on the skirt of her dress.

Her modesty and her love for Liechtenstein were the only things that stopped her from ripping the gown off in that instant.

“Have you ever considered,” her other self whispered, “that perhaps things would be easier if you were different? That maybe things would be a little simpler if you just…changed?”

Suddenly Switzerland was drowning.

Whatever tenuous control she’d had was slipping – now she was falling, borne down by her clothes that greedily drank the seawater and turned her body to marble.  
Victorious, the other Switzerland circled above her, gliding through the water to possess her body once more.

“Don’t you think that he would like you more? It’s what everyone you care about wants from you, after all. They’re just too polite to say so.”

Switzerland couldn’t move.

“No,” she thought, but her voice was muffled and it was impossible to make herself heard – she’d lived through decades, centuries, without questioning who she was or feeling the need to be accepted by anyone, so why was it now so hard?

From somewhere far away, she watched as the other woman straightened up, turned around, and headed determinedly forward.

“If you’re not going to help yourself,” the other Switzerland said, her voice rippling through the water, “I’ll do it for you.”

And Switzerland plunged into watery darkness once more.

—-

Austria was the second person to wake her that day.

“Good evening,” he said, and her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. Instantly Switzerland soared from the bottom of the sea to the soaked air that floated over the waves – her soul settled into her body once more, and abruptly she snatched control from her other self.

“Good evening,” she said with some difficulty – the other Switzerland was whispering angrily in her mind, saying, “Let me handle this,” but she wasn’t about to give in – and Austria’s lips twitched as though he were struggling to suppress a smile.

“I thought you hated dresses,” he said lightly, glancing at her outfit.

There was no way that Switzerland could explain herself, so she opted for a shrug and a muttered, “I don’t know,” but Austria’s gaze seemed worlds away and she didn’t think he even heard her.

And though she knew better than to think he was smiling because of her, Switzerland couldn’t stop the blush that stole across her face.

“You know,” he said, his voice skipping through the air with hushed excitement, “This is the best day of my life. I can scarcely believe it.”

Before Switzerland could reply, Austria leaned on the table beside him and took a step towards her. “Hungary,” he said, his eyes wide, “proposed to me.”

Suddenly the sea in her mind stilled, and Switzerland didn’t know what to do.

“Oh,” she said, her voice impossibly small.

Caught up in his own happiness, Austria didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. “She approached me an hour ago – a little while before the party started, which is why we just arrived – and fell on one knee and asked me to marry her and told me that this time nothing would tear us apart. And I’m – ” something shifted in Austria’s expression, and his face grew strained with emotion, “I’m in love with her, Switzerland – I fell in love when we married, and after she asked me out a year ago I fell in love with her all over again. Hungary is…she just means so much to me. More than I could ever say.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“She told me that she fell in love with me because I was the first man to ever treat her with respect,” said Austria, shaking his head. “And I – I’m sorry, I’m rambling. And I’ve got to – to go and prepare for my duet with Liechtenstein in a few minutes. But I just…can’t believe it. This is…” he laughed softly, “this is, well, I never thought I’d get another chance, after what happened with the Austro-Hungarian empire. And now I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Raising his glass of wine in his hand, Austria took a long drink, waiting for Switzerland’s reply.

“You were the first man to ever treat me with respect as well.”

That was what she wanted to say.

“And I – ”

But instead she blinked hard, pulled her lips tightly into a smile, and said, “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

Sentences splintered into words and dissolved into silence. Austria sat down to play the piano, stood up again to meet everyone’s applause, and left to stay by Hungary’s side. There they stood, alone together in a small world of their own.

It was a world that Switzerland couldn’t enter.

And only the sobs of ghostly gulls were audible in the deathly chill of her still mind.

\---

She dreamt of the sea.

The storm had passed, but the open waters were no more welcoming. Just like before, the moon’s waxy eye peered balefully down at the ink-black sea and frowned at its image – just like before, the other Switzerland sat alone on a rock as her loose hair tangled in the wind and her party gown twisted and crumpled around her knees.

Somehow the shadows that had once fallen so flatteringly on her face were no longer complimentary, and the other Switzerland’s eyes darted angrily about, looking searchingly at the dark waves – but Switzerland didn’t think the other woman saw anything.

She turned and glared at Switzerland. “If you hadn’t spent the past few years in useless silence, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. If you’d let me tell him that we loved him, maybe something would have changed.”

Perhaps she was right, Switzerland thought dimly, but Austria had said that he’d been in love with Hungary for centuries – if that was the case, she’d never had a chance at all.

Suddenly something seemed to rear up in the other Switzerland – out of nowhere she leaned forward eagerly and watched Switzerland intently as she said, “It’s always Hungary, isn’t it?

Everything’s always about her and how amazing she is – don’t you hate it?”

And though she looked away and closed her eyes and tried to calm the angry beating of her heart, Switzerland couldn’t deny that sometimes she wished Hungary wasn’t there.

“Exactly,” said her other self, her voice curling delicately through the salty air. “And that’s why I think we should do something about her.”

Switzerland’s eyes flew open.

“No.” It was out of the question.

With a sigh, the other Switzerland leaned back on the rock. “Well, I’ll just have to do it for you, won’t I?”

The moment those words left her other self’s lips, Switzerland stiffened as she realised that her other self meant to possess her once again, but if she stopped to think it’d be too late - she had to act, and she had to do it now.

In one quick movement, Switzerland leapt from her rock and plunged a knife into her other self’s waiting breast.

Suddenly they were slipping, and then they were underwater. One white hand closed around Switzerland’s wrist, but the other woman’s body floated motionlessly and she made no attempt to fight Switzerland off.

A crude smile twisted her lips. “I shouldn’t have told you that your imagination is reality here,” she said, her voice sweeping through the waves and turning with the tides, “because now you’ve dreamt up a weapon and turned on me. I can’t believe you.”

The knife twisted in the other Switzerland’s chest. “I was never on your side.”

They were sinking into darkness. The sea echoed with emptiness; it held all the life of a dead man’s heart.

It was as if Switzerland had said something incredibly funny. Her other self giggled and tossed her head in derision even as her wound wept in agony, its tears swirling in the sea and disappearing into foam.

“Oh, but you are on my side. You have always been on my side. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her gaze blazed.

“Because I’m you.”

Switzerland’s eyes widened. “No.” She wouldn’t believe it. “You’re not me. You’re not a part of me. I don’t recognise you. I would never do the things you’ve made me do.”

But the other woman’s smile only widened. “Oh, but I am. I’m the part of you that wants to love. I’m the part of you that wants to be loved. I’m the part of you that doubts yourself, that wonders if everything was really worth it, that wants to rest your head on someone’s shoulder and cry into their chest.”

Her voice filled the water and surrounded Switzerland with its crushing grip, but every inch of Switzerland’s body screamed in protest and she wouldn’t give in.

“Then I don’t need you,” she growled, and yanked the knife from her other self’s breast, desperately trying to conceal the pain in her voice. “I don’t need love. I was fine without it.”  
Suddenly the water before her grew clearer and Switzerland looked up. The first rays of sunlight reached through the waves, banishing the cold unknown with their golden arms.

“But you want it,” whispered her other self, “you want it so badly. I know you better than you know yourself, and I know that you’re a mess of contradictions. You want to love, but you’re terrified of expressing your love. You want to be loved, but you’re scared of letting love in. You’re proud but you’re drowning in insecurities, you don’t want to look back but you keep fantasizing about the past, you don’t want anyone to know that you’re in pain but you don’t want to suffer alone, you –“

“No,” breathed Switzerland, “You don’t–“

Then she saw that her other self’s hands were disappearing into sea foam.

“And that’s why I’m here,” continued the other Switzerland, “that’s why I’ve appeared. I’m the part of you that you don’t want to see, that you swallow down and try to hide. But I don’t hate myself for existing, like you do.” Out of nowhere she laughed, undisturbed by her impending death. “You’ve always been repressing me, but ever since you fell in love you’ve been about to crack. And you will. Trust me, you’re not going to keep this up for much longer.”

And in an instant the sun rose victoriously above the sea and the other Switzerland’s body hissed and whispered solemnly as it dissolved completely into foam.

But her voice remained. The water trembled before it, and the waves stilled to hear it speak.

“You might have banished me, but I’m still a part of you.”

And the world twisted and revolved and squirmed in the clenched fist of reality as the other Switzerland’s voice cast its undying spell.

“And I’ll always be with you.”

Then Switzerland woke up.

—-

They went home.

Days passed, and Switzerland sat down and focused on her work and tried not to feel. There was nothing that she could do now – no way to fix the situation, no magical solution to all her problems – so the best she could do was to distract herself with her job whenever her emotions threatened to spill over.

It worked for a while.

Yet when Liechtenstein informed her during dinner that she was going to be one of Hungary’s bridesmaids, something seized up painfully in Switzerland’s chest and she looked away.

Perhaps her feelings were obvious, for Liechtenstein reached out to take her hand and softly asked if she was in love with Austria. It was a hesitant, carefully phrased question – yet there was steel in Liechtenstein’s gaze, a determination that Switzerland effortlessly embraced on the battlefield but struggled to find when it came to her own feelings.

And because she’d stayed silent, Austria was now likely lost to her forever. Yes – there was a difference between Switzerland and Hungary, but beyond the superficiality of Hungary’s conventional attractiveness laid the simple fact that she had acted, and Switzerland had not.

Though she told her sister that she didn’t have feelings for Austria, her eyes burned with a dangerous heat; when the tears threatened to fall she excused herself and closed the door to her room; when she cried, she hid her face with her hands and prayed that Liechtenstein wouldn’t come looking for her.

But her sister opened the door and hugged her and whispered that everything was going to be okay.

And as she finally let herself sob into Liechtenstein’s small shoulder, Switzerland let herself believe in her sister, and trust in her words.

Perhaps everything really was going to be okay.

—-

She didn’t dream of the sea.

An ocean of green grass greeted her, shining with the wink of the morning sun. Beyond the pasture, the Alps rose magnificently from the earth to touch the skies.

The air blossomed sweetly, bearing the scent of a hundred flowers, and Switzerland drank it all in with a tentative smile.

She really was home.

“I’m still here,” the wind whispered, rustling the grass and brushing Switzerland’s cheek with its soft breath.

“I know,” she said.

But everything was going to be okay.


End file.
